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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133689">you're going to be free</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending'>wordbending</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:41:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aren't you happy?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chara &amp; Frisk &amp; Undertale Player, Chara &amp; Frisk (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're going to be free</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired in large part by Valety's incredible fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895667">your happy ending</a> as well as insertdisc5's <a href="https://twitter.com/insertdisc5/status/671023109714132993">comic</a> about similar subject matter. Both highly recommended reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were two voices in your head.</p><p>Well. Not <em>your </em>head, in the literal sense. It was still your spirit, but the head belonged to the child who had fallen down here, the child your spirit had become a part of. It was the head of the child you did not know the name of, because they did not tell anyone, and you did not care to ask. Their voice was the first voice, and it was almost entirely silent. Like a lost fawn, it mostly asked questions - “where do I go?” and “what do I do?”</p><p>You provided them answers, but the answers were nearly all filtered through the second voice. You did not know anything about the second voice - not their gender, not their name, not even a scrap of their appearance. All they did was send you instructions - “go left,” “talk to them,” “spare this monster.” You were all too familiar with video games, and if the thought didn’t seem absurd, perhaps even terrifying, you’d almost think of them as a kind of player, controlling your every action with the press of a few buttons.</p><p>The thought made you want to rebel against them. But you did not know which was worse - to buck against the so-called player’s instructions and find out what the player could do to you or the child in response, or to take control of the child yourself, to steal their body from them. Either way, there was also another part of you that was curious, curious how they would guide you and this child, curious as to what their actions were leading you both towards.</p><p>So far, they had taken you and them all the way here, to where moments ago, you’d just heard the story of your own death. To where the monsters had told the child that they should be happy, because their death would mean freedom. To Asgore, the man you had once (many lifetimes ago) called “Mr. Dad Guy,” and now to the barrier, the barrier you had tried and failed (many lifetimes ago) to break. It had all been leading up to this. All the child had to do was cross this door, and the outcome of the battle would decide not just their future, but the future of all monsterkind.</p><p>As always, they stood in front of the door, not moving of their own accord. They waited patiently, quietly, for your instructions.</p><p>You felt the player’s instructions more than heard them - <em>enter the door </em>- and you relayed them to the child.</p><p>And you heard, another, smaller voice, say in response, <em>I don’t want to.</em></p><p>You’re baffled. They’ve never refused your commands before, even in this very polite way. You don’t know what to do, and the player presses again, harder this time - <em>enter the door.</em></p><p><em>They don’t want to, </em>you try to relay back at the player, unsure if they can actually hear you.</p><p><em>Enter the door, </em>the player “says” again.</p><p><em>I’m not going to </em>make<em> them fight Asgore.</em></p><p><em>Why not? </em>you feel the player say to you, and if you had skin, you feel like it would have goosebumps right now. They’ve never spoken to you like this. This whole situation feels... wrong.</p><p><em>It’s... it’s cruel, </em>you answer, surprising yourself. You’d never thought of it as cruel before. <em>Making them fight. Making them die, over and over again. I can feel their pain, you know - when they die. They shouldn’t have to suffer like that.</em></p><p>You shouldn’t have either, you think, before dismissing that thought. It’s different for you. You’d done horrible things. You deserved everything you’d done to yourself.</p><p>There’s no response.</p><p>
  <em>What are you even trying to accomplish?</em>
</p><p><em>A happy ending, </em>comes the player’s response.</p><p><em>Those things don’t exist, </em>you scoff. <em>Trust me. I would know.</em></p><p>Another pause.</p><p><em>I know how to achieve a happy ending, </em>you feel the player say. <em>I know how to break the barrier and free everyone.</em></p><p>You shudder at the familiarity of those words.</p><p><em>Alright, </em>you say anyway, albeit skeptically. <em>How?</em></p><p>
  <em>Enter the door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Asgore’s death won’t free everyone.</em>
</p><p><em>I didn’t say anything about </em>Asgore’s <em>death.</em></p><p>There’s a short pause as the realization of what that emphasis means hits you, and the barrier that you keep up between you and the child’s thoughts must falter, because it hits the child at the same time, and they internally cringe.</p><p><em>You can’t be serious, </em>you snap.</p><p><em>It’s what’s best for everyone, </em>the player says.<em> Humans are evil. They cast the monsters into this prison. Monsters deserve to be free. And, if they... if </em>we... <em>sacrifice </em>ourselves<em> for Asgore, the monsters can all finally return to the Surface. It’s everything the first fallen child would have wanted.</em></p><p><em>Not like this, </em>you retort, ignoring the reference to you and trying to send out as much of your anger to them as you can. You barely know this child, but... <em>Not if it means that they...</em></p><p><em>They’re right, </em>you hear a small voice say, and you realize it’s the child’s voice. They’re standing ramrod still, their breathing calm and steady, almost inaudible over the pulse of the barrier in the room nearby.</p><p><em>No, they’re not, </em>you say to them, trying to send them not the righteous fury you feel but warmth and comfort, all the warmth and comfort that you found only through the family of the man who is about to murder them.</p><p><em>They are, </em>the child responds. <em>If Asgore takes my soul, everyone will be happy. Monsters will be free. That’s good, isn’t it?</em></p><p><em>No, of course not! Not if it means you </em>die!</p><p><em>I’m only one person. </em>You feel something like a muffled sorrow, but even more than that, you feel their grim acceptance, and if you didn’t feel yourself caring more and more for them by the moment, you’d want to strangle them for it. <em>I... I was supposed to die anyway. I haven’t had a very happy life, so nobody will miss me.</em></p><p>It’s all thoughts you’ve had before, you realize. It’s everything you thought when you made your plan with Asriel. That your life, a life that should have by all rights have already been lost, didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. That you were just one tiny atom.</p><p>You almost would wonder who taught them that, but you feel like you already know the answer.</p><p><em>See? </em>you feel the player’s voice say. <em>They know it’s the right thing to do.</em></p><p><em>Shut the fuck up, </em>you say, before turning your attention back to the child.</p><p>But, before you can stop them, they start to walk of their own accord towards the doorway. You hadn’t considered this - they’ve never walked without you telling them to before.</p><p>Out of sheer desperation, you use every bit of strength you have and force them to stop. They nearly trip at first, but you can’t completely wrest control from them. They continue pulling themselves towards the door anyway, in an unsteady, zombie-like gait.</p><p><em>You can’t do this! </em>you shout, growing more and more panicked. <em>Fuck whatever this stupid idiot says! It’s not </em>“we”! <em>It’s not </em>“ourselves”! <em>It’s </em>you! <em>It’s still you! And you deserve to </em>live!</p><p>They continue walking forward, a mere foot from the door, from the barrier.</p><p>You shout, with everything you have, with all your power, <em>Nobody has to die!</em></p><p><em>Don’t listen to them! </em>the player shouts. <em>It’s the only way everyone can be happy!</em></p><p>And they shout back, louder than you’ve ever heard them, with their own voice, “They’re right, OK?!” They take a deep, shaking breath, practically a rattle. Their fists are clenched tightly enough that their fingernails cut into their palms. "My life... my life doesn’t <em>matter!</em>”</p><p>“You do matter!” you shout back, in their voice. “To Toriel, and Papyrus, and Alphys, and Undyne, and everyone! And you matter <em>to me!”</em></p><p>They freeze.</p><p><em>They’d all miss you so, so much, </em>you say, in their mind, trying to say the things that you wished someone would have said to you all those centuries ago. The words that maybe you would have actually listened to, instead of being told over and over that you were the hope of human and monsterkind. <em>And I would miss you. You can’t give up. Not now. Not ever.</em></p><p>Suddenly, the child takes a step back from the door, and collapses backwards, onto the ground. They curl up, their knees pressed against their chest, and tears start to roll down their cheeks. You’re not sure if they’re entirely theirs, or if they’re also yours.</p><p><em>Stay determined, right? </em>you say.</p><p><em>Yeah, </em>says their small voice, their tiny hands rubbing at their eyes. <em>Stay determined.</em></p><p>You listen for the player’s voice. You expect rage, or fury, but nothing happens. There isn’t a single sense of their presence.</p><p>You know they’re still watching, somehow. You know they’ll be back.</p><p><em>What do we do now? </em>the child asks you.</p><p><em>We wait, </em>you respond. <em>And when they come back, we’ll face Asgore your way. We’ll show him mercy, just like everyone else.</em></p><p>The child doesn’t nod in agreement.</p><p>
  <em>And what if it doesn’t work? What if Flowey was right?</em>
</p><p>You remember his words - about what they’d do if they met a “relentless killer.”</p><p><em>You’ve never given up before, </em>you remind them, because you don’t find you put much stock in what that talking flower has to say. <em>We’ll find a way. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes. We’ll save everyone.</em></p><p>This time, the child does nod in agreement.</p><p><em>Thank you, </em>they say, and you almost feel the presence of a hug, of arms wrapping around your waist. <em>For saving me.</em></p><p><em>No, </em>you say, and you feel their confusion. You send the sensation of a hug back to them. <em>You saved </em>me.</p><p>They only seem more confused.</p><p>After a pause, where they wipe their (or your) tears away, you say, <em>Sorry</em> <em>I never asked before, but... what’s your name?</em></p><p><em>I don’t know, </em>responds the child. <em>I haven’t decided yet.</em></p><p><em>That’s OK, </em>you tell them. <em>When you’re ready to decide... I’ll be waiting.</em></p><p>After several minutes of nearly complete silence where the child merely continues to sit in front of the door, waiting patiently for the player to return, you feel a presence in your shared mind. Just as you realize that it is the player coming back, you feel an abject terror that they’re going to take control of your new friend’s body and force them to face Asgore anyway.</p><p>But, instead, you feel them say, <em>I’m sorry.</em></p><p>You open the walls between the two of you, so that the child can hear.</p><p><em>Say it to them, </em>you tell the player, like Toriel used to. <em>Not me.</em></p><p><em>I’m so sorry, </em>the player repeats. <em>I thought... I thought it was what the game wanted me to do.</em></p><p><em>The game? </em>you hear the child ask, and you can’t help but feel a flash of anger that this, somehow, <em>is </em>a game. That somehow, your whole world isn’t real to them, that it’s just a toy to them.</p><p><em>Don’t ask, </em>you say to the child, because you can’t possibly explain.</p><p><em>Your name’s Chara, right? </em>the player says, and you realize they’re not talking to you, but to the child.</p><p><em>No, </em>I’m <em>Chara, </em>you say. <em>They haven’t decided on their name.</em></p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>A pause.</p><p><em>I should have realized sooner, </em>the player continues.<em> The game wants me to save everyone. It wants me to care about everyone and protect them and show them mercy. But I didn’t show you that mercy. I treated you as... expendable.</em></p><p><em>It’s OK, </em>says the child.</p><p><em>It’s not, </em>says the player. <em>It’s never OK. But... I promise, I won’t do it again. We’ll figure out a way to save everyone, together. And I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.</em></p><p>You feel, inside your shared mind, another feeling like a hug around you both. It’s somehow, at the same time, both closer and further away.</p><p><em>That won’t do, </em>you say. <em>You have to pinky swear on it.</em></p><p>You hear laughter.</p><p>
  <em>OK. Pinky swear.</em>
</p><p>The child raises their hand and extends their pinky, and you feel, through your connection, a presence reach out and tie their pinky around the child’s.</p><p>The child, for the first time you’ve ever seen, smiles.</p><p><em>And, if you break this pinky swear, whoever you are... </em>you tell the player. You flash them a menacing smile. <em>I’ll find a way to kill you.</em></p><p><em>You can’t break a pinky swear, </em>says the child. <em>It’s illegal.</em></p>
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